


Slipping through my hands

by maniasquared



Series: Stucky One-Shots and Drabbles [30]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mission Fic, Multi, Other, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, The Author Regrets Everything, idk how to tag this, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniasquared/pseuds/maniasquared
Summary: Steve sighed with a chuckle. This felt right. Everything always felt right with Bucky. He was Steve’s other half. He shook his head a little and said, “That is a blatantly untrue statement.”Bucky told him to shut up with a laugh.The edges of Steve’s vision started going black, and he began panicking. He couldn’t go. Not now.Or: Steve's mission goes horribly wrong.





	Slipping through my hands

**Author's Note:**

> "And I can see you, I can feel you, slipping through my hands, I can taste you (I can taste you), slipping through my hands"
> 
> Title from "Lover, Please Stay" by Nothing But Thieves.
> 
> This is un-beta'd. I edit my own work.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was an easy mission, something Steve had done before. He could have done it in his sleep. He didn’t have any backup; it wasn’t necessary for this low-profile, quick infiltration mission. The building had been scoped out several times before it was deemed safe to enter, and no one disagreed with Steve when he said he was fine to go in on his own. All of his team members had retreated to their safe house, which was a little more than an hour trek from their target. They couldn’t afford to draw unnecessary attention, even if it was an old and deserted repository; there could have been eyes in between locations. So they didn’t dare fly or drive, everything had to be on foot. But, again, the place had been swept, and Steve trusted his team; therefore, he only needed to get in, extract the necessary files and data programs, and get out. He didn’t have anything to worry about, right?

Wrong.

He was so totally, unbelievably, completely wrong. Sure, in the past he made some pretty fucking stupid decisions, and he was known for cutting it a little too close more often than not. But all of those were entirely his own choice, doing it on his own free will. This was an accident. He wasn’t intentionally throwing himself into the thick of things this time, wasn’t even aware a ‘thick of things’ existed to throw himself into.

It was over as quick as it had started.

Steve had made it into the secure room and inserted the flash-drive he was given to download the materials when the computer system exploded. He was thrown across the room, body hitting the hard wall with a sickening  _ crack _ , his back absorbing the brunt of it. The shield fell from his grip from the sheer force of the blast, as it took him by surprise. The two floors above came crashing down on top of him, effectively pinning him underneath the rubble. His ears rang, and his vision was unclear; he couldn’t tell if it was because of the dust, the impact his skull took, or a combination of both. Probably both. Coherent thought was barely an option.

Coughing, his head was spinning as if he had just gotten off a terrible ride at an amusement park. He needed to orient himself and think of an escape plan. Taking in his surroundings, the dim room was turned to ruin.

The flash-drive must have been a detonator. That meant there was someone trying to get him killed and make sure their work wouldn’t be able to be recovered either. That also meant said person had been able to get under everyone’s noses. The person was someone Steve knew, trusted. He ran through his team members in his head before stopping himself. Figure out the traitor later, escape bomb explosion now.

His lungs were restricted due to a large chunk of metal sitting on him. He couldn’t breathe. He started to panic.

The last time he couldn’t breathe was when he lost Bucky on the train. His chest felt just as tight then as it did now. That was more of a metaphorical inability to breathe. He choked on air nevertheless. The last time he really couldn’t breathe was before the serum. The asthma robbed him of oxygen much like the debris was depriving him of oxygen almost 100 years later. Trying to stay calm, he raised the one arm that wasn’t immobilized and cried out in agony. Something was broken. Well, several things were broken, and a few other things were dislocated. Steve grunted and persevered; he fumbled a few times, losing strength and traction the longer he tried. Finally, his other arm was freed—which was miraculously not shattered—and he could breathe easier, but not much.

There was a monstrous industrial beam laid across several smaller, though rather big in size, all the same, pieces of concrete and cinder-block which trapped him from the hips down. He calculated his options.

After quite a bit of maneuvering and an abundance of cracked whimpers, he managed to get all of the pieces off him except one. It was smaller, relative to the other rubble he pushed off his thighs, and it perched on his shin as if it was mocking him. The angle wasn’t optimal, but then again this whole situation wasn’t optimal, so he had to use his broken arm to shove the concrete off.

That was a mistake.

A dreadful feeling radiated from his leg, plunging him into an ocean wave of pain. It was as if his body was burning, and the start of the fire came from his previously confined leg. He felt light-headed. Looking down at the source, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. A jagged edge sliced into his shin when he moved the debris. It left a gaping laceration, way too deep to be safe. There was a lot of blood. He knew instantly what was happening.

He had cut his tibial artery, and he was bleeding out. Fast. He only had a few minutes to live, if he was lucky.

Hands shaking, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out his phone. It was some brick flip phone Tony had given to him as a joke, saying it was an artifact like him. The joke was on Tony, Steve liked the device. Apparently, the thing was indestructible because when he opened it, the screen flashed on just fine. He opened his contacts and decided to make a call.

The person on the other line answered after two rings, the grin evident in his voice, “Stevie!”

Steve smiled despite the fact that there were tears in his eyes. He swallowed and hoped his own voice didn’t shake when he spoke. “Hey, babydoll. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing pretty good. I just got back from going on a jog with Mike.” There was shuffling over the phone before Bucky continued, “Isn’t that right boy? Yeah, you’re so good for daddy!” He must have been giving Mike belly rubs.

Mike was their dog; they adopted him from a shelter almost a year ago after Bucky’s therapist said getting an emotional support animal might benefit his mental health. As soon as Bucky laid eyes on the pitbull with only three legs, he fell in love. They were inseparable ever since. They got into all sorts of trouble together, more so than Steve and Bucky ever did as kids. And that was certainly a feat. It took talent. But Bucky was talented all right. Other than the two getting into deep shit, they seemed to work well together, especially for Bucky’s mental health. His therapist was right, as she always was.

“Ew, Buck, please don’t refer to yourself as ‘daddy,’” Steve complained. He needed to make this conversation go as casually and smooth as possible. For his own, selfish sake. He was running out of time, though. He had so much to say. “Especially not to our precious, furry son.”

“Why not? I call you daddy when we’re fucking. It’s not any different.”

Steve sighed with a chuckle. This felt right. Everything always felt right with Bucky. He was Steve’s other half. He shook his head a little and said, “That is a blatantly untrue statement.”

Bucky told him to shut up with a laugh.

The edges of Steve’s vision started going black, and he began panicking. He couldn’t go. Not now. He hadn’t said it yet, so he blurted it out, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Stevie,” came the reply. Steve could imagine the blush that rose on his partner’s cheeks, and the smile so wide it just about reached his ears. It was almost as if he was right there with Bucky. “I love you more than anything.”

The tears forming around his eyes finally spilled over. He let them roll down his face, but he refused to make a sound that would let on he was crying. He was seeing spots by this point. There was so much blood. His breathing was shallow and labored. He felt cold. So cold. Steve licked his lips. “I miss you.”

There was a little hesitation; Steve knew his partner was catching on. “I miss you a lot. When are you coming home? I can’t wait to see you.”

It was those words that broke Steve’s resolve, outwardly sobbing. It caught in his throat, and he choked on it. He tried to move past it by saying he didn’t know. But he knew. He knew he wasn’t coming home. At least not in the way he wanted to be coming home.

“Steve? What’s wrong?” Nothing got past Bucky. “You sound upset.”

“No, Bucky—babydoll—I’m fine. I’m just in a bit of a tough spot.” He lied right through his teeth. Bucky called him out for it. He couldn’t let his last words to the love of his life be something like that; he couldn’t lie. He swallowed hard, and his breathing started to rattle. “I’m scared, Buck. I’m so scared.”

“Steve, are you okay? You don’t sound okay,” Bucky said with a tremor in his voice. Steve wasn’t one to admit he was afraid. He was a rock; he put on a brave face every time. “Talk to me, Steve, please.” At this point, Bucky was begging; Steve hadn’t spoken in a while.

There were flashes of light coloring the dim wreckage, dancing around Steve. His eyes felt heavy, along with the rest of his body. He was starting to lose consciousness. He’d be gone within the next minute. Suddenly calm, he said, “I’m bleeding real bad, Buck. I was blown to hell, and I hit an artery, and there’s no one here but you and me….” A pause. “You and me, babydoll.”

He couldn’t understand Bucky much; his brain wasn’t firing those neurons anymore. It was focusing too much on the useless task of stopping the flow of blood. He could only assume what his partner was saying; Bucky was probably already on his way to the nearest place he could get a ride overseas, hijacking something if he wasn’t satisfied.

It was too late.

“Buck… babydoll… it’s okay. Don’t worry about… me….” Steve’s speech was slow and slurred; he tipped his head back and fought to get out the last few words he could muster. “You’ll… you’ll be okay, babydoll. You’re so… so strong and brave….”

There was a sniffle over the line, and quietly—faintly—Steve heard Bucky’s voice for the last time. “No. Not without you….”

**Author's Note:**

> This one hurt. Leave a comment and kudos to let me know your thoughts.


End file.
